


For You

by Kangofu_CB



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Christmas fic, Get back together, Gundam Wing Secret Santa Exchange 2017, M/M, Sexy Times, giftfic, mild roast angst, mostly waff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 12:59:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13077384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/pseuds/Kangofu_CB
Summary: A christmas Fic for AmberlyinViolet, who I was delighted to receive as a giftee, and who is always so supportive of my work.She requested a 2x3 First Christmas Back Together, and I hope this suits!





	For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amberly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberly/gifts).



Trowa glared across the table at the suspect he’d brought into custody.

 

The suspect that he’d arrested.

 

The suspect that was currently making him - he glared at the clock above the man’s head - forty five minutes late for his scheduled vacation.

 

His plane was due to take off in an hour.

 

There was absolutely no way he was going to make it, even if the man started talking  _ right now _ .

 

Trowa glared at him again.

 

This shit,  _ this shit _ , was why he and Duo had split up the first time.  Because their jobs were demanding; because Trowa was completely incapable of leaving work before a job was totally, completely done to his satisfaction; because he had prioritized completing the mission over making sure his relationship was, well, a relationship.

 

Or something more than fuckbuddy status, as Duo had so eloquently put it, three years ago, before he’d transferred to the L2 branch and out of Trowa’s life.

 

Trowa glared harder.

 

And now, six months after Duo had transferred  _ back _ , had offered Trowa the opportunity to start over, to give them another shot, Trowa was stuck at work because of  _ this guy _ .

 

The Christmas music playing faintly in the background of the building speakers wasn’t helping.

 

The only person who hated Christmas more than Trowa was Duo.

 

That was why they had booked a trip, the trip Trowa was  _ supposed _ to be leaving on, over the weekend.  

 

Christmas alone in the mountains, in a luxurious cabin getaway suggested (and owned by) Quatre, where they could get reacquainted after so much time apart - euphemism fully intended - and ignore Christmas altogether.

 

Trowa began contemplating the suspect’s murder.  He could make the body disappear, no problem.  No body, no crime.

 

Tony ‘The Knife’ Abano was starting to look nervous.  He swallowed convulsively.

 

If he let the guy go on a technicality, Trowa could rent a private shuttle - he still had a pilot’s license, after all - then pick Tony up and dump him out the airlock on the dark side of L2.  He’d be back in time for dinner.

 

But not to make his fucking flight to Tahoe. 

 

He didn’t have a license for a plane, his license was for space flight.   _ Apparently _ that didn’t count.

 

He’d checked.

 

Just as Tony was starting to sweat, Trowa’s phone vibrated in his pocket.

 

Ignoring every Preventer regulation he’d ever heard about in passing (Trowa didn't bother with reading them), he pulled the device out of his pocket to confirm his worst fear.

 

It was from Duo.

 

Duo, who had flown in to Tahoe from his own recently-complete mission halfway across the country.  They hadn’t even seen each other in weeks.

 

His glare intensified as he unlocked the screen.

 

**_Gonna miss your flight, hotshot._ **

 

Trowa actually, audibly growled.

 

Tony The Knife made a whimpering noise in the back of his throat.

 

He texted back furiously. 

 

**_I know.  I’m sorry, I’m sorry.  This fucker has invoked his right to counsel and I can’t even TALK to him until the lawyer arrives.  On Christmas FUCKING Eve._ **

 

He tucked the phone away again, feeling his pulse throbbing in his temple.

 

If Tony the Knife ruined his chances with Duo forever, Trowa really was going to throw him out of an airlock.  Maybe not today.  But one day.

 

Right on cue, the phone vibrated again.

 

**_Well the next flight out is at midnight.  If you make that one you might, MIGHT be here before breakfast._ **

 

Trowa sighed explosively.  He would be making the midnight flight.  His shift had ended an hour ago,, and Preventer policy stated that unless there was a state of emergency, they couldn’t keep him over on a national holiday for more than two hours.  

 

He continued to glare at Tony The Knife, who might need to rethink his nickname to Tony the Fucking Chicken, if the way he was sweating and shifting were any indication.

 

Half an hour later, relief arrived in the form of another Preventer agent sent to replace him.  Trowa nodded sharply at the blonde woman whose name escaped him, not that he was particularly concerned with what it might have been, and he was out the door before it even had a chance to shut behind her. 

 

But he wasn’t out of the observation area just beyond the interrogation room before he heard Tony The Chickenshit start babbling about how he was ready to talk now, so long as no one let the other guy back in the room.

 

Trowa smirked all the way to his car.

 

His good humor only lasted as long as it took to hit the Christmas Eve city traffic on the way to his apartment, stopping dead on the freeway halfway home.

 

His phone vibrated again exactly five minutes after his plane had been scheduled to take off.

 

If he hadn’t been sitting in a standstill he wouldn’t have bothered to check.  But the car was in park anyway, so he leaned up on his hip to dig the blasted thing out and see what it was.

 

**_It’s really too bad you aren’t here.  To enjoy this… tub… with me._ **

 

The message itself was innocuous enough, though it served to make Trowa feel guiltier.

 

But the accompanying picture was anything but.

 

Duo had cut his hair on L2.  Trowa didn’t have the full story, though he’d heard any number of rumors, but he kept it just about shoulder length now, the better to show off the broad expanse of shoulders and chest, in Trowa’s not very humble opinion, and they were on  _ full  _ display.

 

It was a selfie, taken in front of the bathroom mirror, a large, deep tub in the background, with a window overlooking a blank, snowy expanse.

 

And Duo was naked.  

 

Well.  

 

Trowa assumed he was naked behind the strategically-placed towel.  He was holding the phone in one hand, the other lifted to push his hair out of his face, and Trowa was immediately, desperately, hard and throbbing.

 

In traffic.

 

In the middle of the city.

 

A thousand miles away.

 

**_Jesus fuck, are you trying to kill me?_ **

 

Duo sent nothing but a winky face in return.

 

Just as Trowa was getting ready to furiously text him, in great detail, exactly what he either should do, or possibly what Trowa wanted to do, or any number of ingenious and illicit things, something broke loose in the traffic ahead and he was back in motion.

 

Throbbing arousal or not.

 

He barely remembered the rest of the drive home.

 

Throwing the car into park, Trowa raced up the stairs to his apartment.  If he changed quickly and threw his already-packed bag into the car, he would  _ just _ make it to the airport in time to check his bag and get through security.  His Preventer badge allowed him to bypass the normal line, but he still had to be patted down and check his weapon.

 

He was halfway out of his uniform when inspiration struck.

 

Shucking his pants, leaving him in just underwear and the rosary Duo had left behind the first time, the one Trowa wore under his shirt every single day, Trowa strode across the room and propped his phone up with a variety of odds and ends until the angle was just right, and set the timer function.

 

It took a couple of tries, but he managed the perfect angle. Underwear tugged down just a shade too low. Necklace hanging from his mouth. Noticeable bulge. 

 

Revenge was sweet. 

 

Trowa tugged on jeans and a sweater, grabbing a coat out of the closet and snagging his duffle bag on his way out of the door as he made his way back down to the car.

 

The interior was still warm when he climbed in, tossing the duffle into the backseat.  

 

He buckled his seatbelt as he started the car, and paused only long enough to hit send on the photo before he threw the car in reverse and bolted out of the parking lot.  The phone buzzed in response mere moments later, but he waited to see what it was until he was safely parked in the long term garage at the airport and walking towards the entrance.

 

**_If you’ve got time to send me pictures like that, you’ve got time to get your ass on a plane!!!!_ **

 

Trowa grinned.

 

Security was surprisingly light and, as expected, his badge got him through quickly and without incident.

 

He was settled in his seat waiting on beverage service when he texted Duo back.

 

**_Already am.  Hope you’re prepared to deliver._ **

 

The airline attendant frowned at him, and he quickly shut the phone down.  If he got kicked off the plane for cell phone usage, Duo really would kill him.

 

It was three hours later, two of them on the flight, and then another 45 driving a rental across pitch black, snow covered roads, before Trowa was finally,  _ finally _ on vacation.

 

He dragged himself into the cabin, shutting the door against the biting wind and stumbling into blessed warmth, the fireplace roaring, and not a single Christmas decoration in sight.  None of the ear piercing high notes of Mariah Carey’s worst song on record.

 

Just blessed silence and deep warmth, and Duo.

 

Duo, who had been asleep on the couch, curled up under an Afghan.

 

Of course, he hadn’t slept through Trowa’s quietly dramatic entrance, and Duo was now blinking sleepily up at him, lips curling into a welcoming smile.

 

All the feelings of being rushed, anxious, and desperately afraid melted away at the sight of the other man, who’d clearly tried to wait up for him, and just as clearly fallen asleep.

 

Trowa smiled back, tentatively. “Hi.”  The word was quiet, but it carried clearly in the hush of the room, punctuated by the crackle of the fireplace.

 

Duo’s grin widened in amusement.  “Hi.”

 

The other man sat up, the blanket falling to his waist, revealing a wide expanse of bare skin.

 

“Are you naked?” Trowa blurted, his exhaustion and the travel clearly having caught up with, rendering him incapable, apparently, of censoring his words.

 

Duo snorted, lips curling into something that was less amused and more sultry.  “Why don’t you come over here and find out?”

 

Trowa didn’t need a second invitation.  He shrugged out of his coat, dropping it and the duffle as he strode across the room, coming to a halt in front of Duo, reaching out to tangle his fingers in the shorter strands of his hair.

 

Reaching up to rest his hands on Trowa’s hips, Duo gazed up at him, waiting. Even through the thick denim, the heat of Duo’s hands and the thought that Duo was  _ touching _ him was enough to set his pulse racing.

 

It had been… a very long time.

 

Duo had been back several months, and they’d gone on dates, and hung out casually, and gingerly tried to pick their way through to some sort of relationship, relearning one another slowly, and this - the physical aspects - had been off the table until recently.

 

Trowa had wanted, had  _ needed _ , to prove that Duo meant more to him than the sex, and Duo had been…

 

Well, he hadn’t pushed the issue, but their goodnight kisses had gotten more heated, and he’d started to look more than a little disappointed at the lack of invitation to come upstairs for a night cap.

 

The trip had been Duo’s idea, actually, and he’d made it more than clear that he was ready, willing, and able to explore something in a more naked direction.

 

The photos he’d sent this evening being a prime example.

 

Trowa didn’t know how Duo had spent the intervening years between them - he frankly didn’t want to know and hadn’t asked - but for his part, he’d had a few brief, mostly unsatisfying encounters, and eventually buried himself in work.

 

It turned out that being in love with someone else really put a damper on extraneous bedroom activities.

 

And it was too bad it had taken Duo leaving the fucking planet for him to figure it out.

 

Duo tugged him closer, rubbing his face against Trowa’s stomach, his warm breath just barely penetrating the weave of the sweater, thumbs rubbing circles on his hips, and Trowa took in a shuddering breath.

 

“The real question,” the other man murmured, “is why you  _ aren’t _ naked.”

 

Never one to do anything by halves, Duo had evidently decided it was time, and Trowa was in no sort of state to deny him anything, erection already straining at his jeans.  Hell, he’d been half hard all night, ever since the photo.

 

Trowa chuckled, reaching behind his head to tug the sweater over his head, leaving him bare from the waist up.

 

Duo hummed appreciatively, trailing his lips over exposed flesh, eyes closed as he breathed in the scent of Trowa’s skin.

 

When he looked up, his eyes caught on the dangling edge of the rosary hanging against Trowa’s sternum.

 

Trowa swallowed hard.

 

The rosary had been in the photo he’d sent Duo in return, but he’d had it tugged up, caught in his teeth, and the photo was from a distance and he’d wondered, between the angle and the lighting and the fact that the rest of it was rather distracting, if Duo would even notice.

 

The look on his face suggested he hadn’t.

 

One of the hands at his hip drifted upwards to finger the cross hanging at the bottom.

 

“I didn’t know you’d kept it,” Duo offered, finally, dropping the carved wood to rest against Trowa’s chest again.

 

Trowa shrugged.  It had been Duo’s.  One of the only things he’d left behind, though perhaps it hadn’t been purposeful.  Trowa’d had the rosary in his bag, prepping for yet another mission, the good-luck charm Duo had always foisted off on him before he left for something even mildly dangerous, on the night the other man had informed him of his transfer.

 

He’d taken to wearing it afterwards, when Duo’s absence had really sunk in, when he’d realized he wasn’t coming back.

 

Now he only took it off to shower, and it was showing signs of wear.

 

Trowa wondered if Duo noticed.  Didn’t ask.

 

After a moment, Duo sighed again, a sound that seemed strangely content, like something deep inside him had been satisfied, and he returned his attention to the skin of Trowa’s chest and abdomen.  For his part, Trowa reached down, dragging his hands over every bit of skin he could reach, raking his fingers through Duo’s hair, and standing silently, just enjoying the feeling of being touched, finally, by someone he had more than a passing interest in.

 

The clink of his belt brought Trowa out of his lust-induced haze, Duo’s mouth leaving hot, distracting trails across his torso.

 

He looked down as Duo unsnapped the jeans and tugged them down, underwear and all, to expose his swollen flesh.

 

Trowa shivered, though the room wasn’t cold at all.

 

It was the same, and it was different.  Duo had been at his feet, mouth on his cock, more times than he could count, but this was different, in a million tiny but significant ways.

 

They weren’t sixteen, guerilla fighters and reveling in the fact that they were alive at all, celebrating in a tradition as old as humankind, adrenaline-fueled lust driving them.

 

They weren’t twenty and fumbling through society, finding their place and wondering how to fit in with the civilians and former soldiers they were expected to work with.

 

They weren’t even twenty-five, on the verge of saying goodbye and grasping at the vestiges of what was left of their connection.

 

When Trowa looked down he could almost see the past superimposed over the present, a long braid of hair trailing through his memories, in contrast with the shorter strands sliding between his fingers.

 

And then Duo swallowed him whole and  _ that _ was new, as was the slow, languorous pace he set, as though he were determined to drag the experience out, savor it, commit it to memory, and Trowa groaned, long and low, squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of  _ anything _ that might prolong the moment.  Cold showers and case files and the way Heero glared at new recruits.

 

It was the best kind of torture, even though he was still tangled in his jeans, still had his boots on.

 

Finally he resorted to mentally reviewing Heavyarms’ schematics in an effort to stave off orgasm, which only lead to memories of Duo, wild and fierce, and then he looked down, found the other man with lips wrapped around his cock, face contorted in ecstacy, and that was it.

 

He came, with a trembling, wordless shout, his fingers tightening in Duo’s hair while the other man’s throat worked furiously.

 

When reality returned, Duo had maneuvered him onto the couch and was crouched down, working at his boots, the smirk on his face very self-satisfied.

 

And he was, in fact, naked.

 

Trowa made a small sound in the back of his throat, something that communicated want and need and lust and a million things he didn’t have words for, and Duo looked up, met his eyes.  The look on his face softened, slightly, at whatever expression Trowa was currently wearing.

 

“Been thinkin’ about that for weeks,” the long-haired man offered, his voice a bit hoarse, and Trowa made the noise again.

 

He cleared his throat awkwardly.

 

“I’ve been thinking about it for years.”  And he hadn’t meant to say that, but there it was.

 

The smile Duo gave him was nearly blinding.

 

Trowa couldn’t understand any of it.  Why he’d come back and why he was willing to pursue this again and why he was so happy to see Trowa wearing a wooden rosary he’d forgotten when he left and why, anytime Trowa said something to the effect that he’d  _ missed _ Duo, the man in question seemed so… ecstatic.

 

If he’d just done things right the first time, Duo wouldn’t have had to  _ leave _ , and Trowa just…

 

Didn’t understand and didn’t want to ask, and really just wanted to revel in it for as long as it lasted.

 

Finally tugging the remainder of Trowa’s clothes free, Duo climbed back up onto the couch, straddling Trowa’s lap and leaned down to kiss him, obliterating whatever self-deprecating thoughts he’d been about to think.

 

This, too, was simultaneously familiar and not.  Duo in his arms, Duo in his lap, Duo’s taste on his tongue, combined with his own.

 

But this Duo was… settled and relaxed and sure of himself and what he wanted, and broader and heavier than the old Duo had been, and Trowa made the comparisons and dismissed them in favor of the present.

 

The present where Duo was here and he wanted to be here and they were together and-

 

Trowa trailed his hands across a body he’d once known as well as his own, found the changes and learned those too, searching out sensitive spots and soon Duo was rocking against him, panting into his ear as Trowa pumped the straining erection in his hand and dragged his blunt nails down Duo’s spine.

 

“Fuck!” Duo muttered, and Trowa smiled.

 

Some things never changed.  

 

“I want-” Trowa started, and then stopped.

 

Maybe it wasn’t about what he wanted.

 

But Duo leaned back to look at him, eyes heavy and pupils wide.

 

“Yeah? What do you want?”

 

Trowa hesitated.

 

Duo bit his lip, arching into Trowa’s grip.  “Better speak up, or you’re gonna miss the opportunity.”

 

Twisting his wrist just the way he remembered Duo liking it, Trowa laughed.  Duo’s eyes fluttered, and he inhaled sharply, but he managed to maintain at least some control.

 

“You wanna fuck me?”

 

Another of the small noises worked its way past his vocal chords without his permission, but Trowa shook his head.

 

Duo hummed thoughtfully, reaching down to pull Trowa’s hand away from his cock, tangling their fingers together and pressing him back into the couch.  He leaned in, nibbling his way across Trowa’s jaw, hot breath rasping across his throat, and Trowa shuddered.

 

“You want me to fuck you?”  The words ghosted over his ear, low and hot and everything that had been dreaming of for  _ years _ , and Trowa moaned out loud.

 

“Is that a yes?” And if Duo sounded amused, at least it was mostly drowned out by the lust in his voice.

 

“Yes,” Trowa breathed, shifting so that they were stretched out fully on the sofa, Duo’s weight a welcome relief over him, their cocks lined up, Trowa’s erection back with a vengeance.

 

Duo fumbled in the couch cushions, and Trowa made a sound that would have been a chuckle if it had been less breathless, less needy, but the other man was back momentarily with foil packages and a familiar-looking tube and there was that same sense of past-overlaid-with-present and then his fingers brushed over him and-

 

And Trowa let go of the past, let himself be totally absorbed in this one moment, in the feeling of Duo’s lips on his skin and fingers pressing into his body and tried to just  _ be _ .

 

First one finger, and then two, and it  _ had _ been a long time, though Duo didn’t ask, Trowa was sure he knew, and he was slow and patient and then he brushed against that place, the one that ceased his thought processes as his back arched, bucking hard enough that Duo had to shift to accommodate him.

 

And then he did it again.

 

And again.

 

Until Trowa was a panting, writhing mess, and Duo had three fingers buried inside of him, working him into a frenzy, even as he ripped a condom open and rolled it over himself, one-handed.

 

The other man had always been ridiculously ambidextrous.

 

The fingers slid away and were replaced by something longer, harder and thicker before Trowa had the opportunity to protest the loss, and then Duo was pressing inside of him, staring down at him in the dim light.  Watching for signs of discomfort, or watching Trowa’s eyes roll back, or whatever he was looking for.

 

Trowa was just looking at Duo.

 

Duo, who was braced above him; Duo, who was back from outer space; Duo, who was inside of him for the first time in years, and that thought alone was enough to set him off, Duo barely seated in his body when he was coming, and coming, and  _ coming _ with a silent shout, breathless and scrambling for a firm hold on the other man.

 

“ _ Jesus _ , Tro,” was all Duo could manage, and then he was pressing in and out, hips jerking as he struggled to catch up, as Trowa’s body clenched and unclenched in orgasm, Duo’s face buried in the cradle between Trowa’s neck and shoulder.

 

Duo was mumbling something and it took a moment, two, before Trowa realized it was his  _ name _ , and that sent another jolt of lust through him, caused his spent cock to twitch, his body to clamp down, and-

 

“Fuck!” 

 

Duo came in his arms, shuddering, with an explosive breath, and Trowa could do nothing but hold on, with his arms and his legs, stroking the other man’s back.

 

Collapsing against him, Duo reached blindly to tug the blanket he’d discarded earlier over both of them, sighing in contentment.

 

They lay in the silence, Trowa contemplating the shadows dancing on the ceiling, feeling  _ right _ , feeling like he belonged.

 

“Merry fucking Christmas,” Duo chuckled, and Trowa snorted.

 

They’d always hated Christmas, the both of them.  Most of their worst memories tangled up in the over-hyped holiday.

 

This Christmas felt different.

 

Everything felt different.

 

Except one thing.

 

“I love you,” Trowa said, matter-of-factly.  Duo stiffened in his arms, moved to rise, but Trowa held on.  Kept him in place.  “I should have told you a long time ago.  I shouldn’t have assumed you knew.  I’m not sure I knew.  But I do.”

 

Duo let out a shuddering breath, a familiar hitch in the middle of it.  Pressed a kiss below Trowa’s ear.

 

“About fuckin’ time you figured it out.”

 

Trowa laughed so loud he almost missed the rest.

 

“I love you too, you fuckin’ idiot.”

 

Merry fucking Christmas indeed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to ClaraxBarton who gave this a quick beta for me <3


End file.
